


Basement Oasis

by violue



Series: Carnival Oasis [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bedtime Stories, Home Depot, Kid Fic, M/M, Rimming, Tulips, mentions of past violence, sex related injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:58:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7397725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violue/pseuds/violue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tulips, tomatoes, and teleportation... just another weekend in Valencia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basement Oasis

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Kris](http://kelisab.tumblr.com), [Lydie](http://lydiejo.tumblr.com/), and [Dani](http://warkitt3nz.tumblr.com/). Many blessings upon your houses, my champions.

The bedroom is quiet, dimly lit by a few of Castiel’s lanterns. It still fascinates Dean, how warm and inviting this basement has become. Once, it was a glorified storage room turned pitiful bedroom. Now it’s a “nest”, decorated with Castiel’s tapestries and knickknacks, lit by lanterns powered with grace. Even the _air_ down here is fresher than it used to be.

Mary and Abby are perched on a pile of pillows, eagerly waiting for Castiel to start his story.

They’ve had a busy Friday. Sam and Jess are off celebrating their anniversary, due back tomorrow morning, and Dean and Castiel have spent the day entertaining the girls. Castiel taught them how to make ice cream, Dean taught them how to change a bike tire, then Castiel let them draw all over one of his white cassocks with fabric paint while he and Dean made dinner.

Castiel’s wearing the cassock now that the paint is dry, something Dean’s fairly sure was achieved through some sort of quasi-angel magic. He’s proudly bearing Mary’s drawings depicting stick figure battles, and the hearts, stars, and flowers Abby drew in mostly pink and purple. He’s got on three candy necklaces, one of which has been partially eaten, bracelets made out of colorful pipe cleaners, and a cheap plastic tiara in his hair. The son of Satan, dressed by children.

And yet, he still looks regal, ethereal.

Dean joins the girls on the floor while Castiel sits cross-legged on the bed, pondering over what is likely an endless selection of stories he could tell.

“Long ago,” he eventually begins, “in a country so old time has forgotten its name, there were two brothers.”

“Like Daddy and Uncle Dean?” Abby says.

Castiel smiles. “No, they were nothing like your father and Dean, because they weren’t very nice people. They were twins, and their father was the leader of the land they lived in. The brothers were warriors, some of the best, really. They protected their ruler, they protected their farms, and they protected their older brother, who was in line to lead the lands once their father someday passed on.”

“What were they named?” Mary asks.

“Well, the first brother was named Ma’ko, after their father.”

“Mako?” Abby says.

“A little like… Ma-huh-ko, but said faster, but with a pause in between. Ma’ko.”

“Ma-uh-ko,” Mary and Abby say in unison. Dean smiles.

“The twins were named I’ka, and Ka’i, two halves of the same coin. Their father was a strong ruler, but not a gracious one, and certainly not a kind one. Many looked forward to the day that Ma’ko the Younger would take over for Ma’ko the Elder.”

“They wanted him to _die_?” Mary says, horrified. “Daddy says you should never, _ever_ hope for someone to die!”

“Very good advice. It can be… bad luck to wish such a thing.”

“And it’s mean.”

“Yes, very. But they weren’t bad people, they were simply…”

“Stressed?” Abby says. “Whenever Uncle Dean is cranky, Daddy says it’s because he’s ‘stressed’.”

Dean grimaces, and Castiel snickers. “Yes, they were stressed, because Ma’ko the Elder was such a mean leader. They wished for his death, because they wanted Ma’ko the Younger to take his place and treat them better than his father.”

Mary nods thoughtfully. “So, did he die? Did things get better?”

“He did, he died in a rhinoceros stampede.” Mary and Abby giggle at this, and Castiel raises an eyebrow. “It’s a _very_ painful way to die.” Mary and Abby stop giggling.

“ _Jeez,_ Cas,” Dean says.

“Well, it _is_. In any case, yes, he died.”

“And was everyone glad?” Abby asks.

Castiel shakes his head. “No, because Ma’ko the Elder was not alone, Ma’ko the Younger perished with him. The benevolent ruler they’d waited a lifetime for never had a chance to rule.”

“That’s what you get for wishing someone dead, huh?” Abby says.

Castiel chuckles. “Perhaps. With the leader and his successor gone, the people had a problem. The role of leader passed from father to son. If that son had no heir, then the next oldest son would be ruler.”

Mary glares. “What about the _daughters_?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, the daughters didn’t get to rule, not in this society.”

“Well it’s a _dumb_ society.”

“It was a long time ago.”

Mary sighs. “Okay, so who was the older twin?”

“Ah, you see, _that_ was the problem. No one knew. Their mother had long passed, now their father too. No one present at the birth was still alive.”

“So, how did they pick?”

“It was thought that perhaps… just for this generation, their lands could be ruled by two. After all, I’ka and Ka’i had fought by each other’s side all their lives. Anyone who had seen them in battle knew they fought with one mind, one body, two halves of that same coin.”

“I don’t like it,” Abby says.

Mary looks back at her. “Why?”

“Cas said they weren’t very nice people.”

“You’re right! Two mean guys in charge is even _worse_ than one.”

“M _hmmm_. Was it worse, Uncle Cas?”

A feeling of pleased warmth settles over Dean as Abby says “Uncle Cas”, and he can’t tell if it’s his own joy or Castiel’s. It happens once in awhile, Dean will suddenly feel a rush of emotions that aren’t his own. As far as he knows, he’s the only one in the house it happens to.

“It was worse,” Castiel says, nodding. “I’ka and Ka’i fought over every decision, no matter how great or small. Even when they agreed, they fought about it. They seemed to always be angry, and often that anger was taken out on the people they were meant to protect.”

“Wow,” Mary says, “those people couldn’t catch a break.”

Castiel shakes his head sadly. “They truly couldn’t. The brothers were so very stubborn, so unwilling to communicate. In less than a year they had decided to go to war. Everyone had to choose a side to fight for, I’ka or Ka’i, and for most of them it was a matter of choosing between two terrible things.”

Abby nudges Mary with her foot. “Like picking between eating liver and eating _tongue_.”

“Gross!” Mary pushes Abby away.

“So,” Castiel says, “everyone chose their sides, and they battled to see who would rule.”

“Sounds dumb,” Abby says.

“Many wars are. All this war really did was weaken them as a people. On the fourth day of their war, after many lives had been lost in their pointless battle, a neighboring group attacked.”

“No!” Mary yells.

“Yes. With so many of their warriors dead or wounded, they didn’t stand a chance.”

“So, they lost?”

“They were wiped out. Within the day, everyone was dead or captured.”

Dean grimaces. Castiel’s stories are often a fucking bummer and a half, but the girls always love them.

“This is one of those stories with a _lesson,_ isn’t it?” Abby says, suspicious.

“Yeah,” Mary says, nodding. “His stories always have a lesson.”

“There is indeed a lesson,” Castiel says. “Do you know what it is?”

Abby chews on her lower lip, considering. “To be a nice leader?”

Mary shakes her head. “Nah, that’s not it.”

“Okaaaay fine, what is it?”

“Probably something about not fighting.”

Castiel smiles wide. “When we let pettiness and selfishness divide us, my lovely gems, we often lose sight of what’s important. I’ka and Ka’i were so busy fighting over how to rule, they forgot to actually do it.”

Mary laughs and pokes Abby in the arm. “He’s telling us this because of this morning.”

Abby looks confused. “What about this morning?”

“Uncle Dean took the last muffin while me and you were fighting over who should get to eat it.”

Dean smirks. He sure did.

“Perhaps,” Castiel says.

“We should have… uh… cut the muffin in half, right?” Abby tries.

Mary nods in agreement. “If we’d shared it, we both would have had some, but instead we got…”

“Distracted,” Dean says.

“Yeah, that. And _you_ took the muffin.”

“You snooze, you lose, kiddo.”

“Uncle Cas?” Abby says.

“Yes?”

“You need a story that helps Uncle Dean realize stealing a muffin is _mean_.”

“Yeah!” Mary says, glaring at Dean. “He stole a muffin! From us! We’re just kids!”

“And _family_!” Abby says.

Castiel smiles at them, then at Dean. “Perhaps one will come to me later.”

 

*

 

“So… you got a story to teach me about the evils of taking the last muffin?”

It’s a few hours later. Mary and Abby are asleep in their room, Bones is asleep in Sam’s bed, and Castiel is in Dean’s lap, working himself on Dean’s cock with gusto, wings fanned out as far as they can go without knocking shit over.

Castiel has one hand on the wall behind Dean, the other gripping his shoulder. “I have many stories, Dean.”

“I like your stories. Some of them are so detailed… I feel like I’m there. You could write hundreds of books about forgotten kings and no one would ever know you were just talking about things you’d seen yourself.”

“That’s an intriguing idea.” Castiel’s eyes trail down Dean’s body, lingering on his abdomen. His smile slips, and his hand moves from Dean’s shoulder to his torso as his movements slow.

“Cas?” Dean pants. “What’s wrong?”

“You have a kidney stone.”

Dean stops moving. “What?”

“You have a kidney stone,” Castiel repeats, patting at Dean’s abdomen. “It’s going to hurt when it starts to pass.”

“Cas, my dick is _inside you,_ why are you talking about kidney stones?”

“Because I just noticed it.”

“Okay, well… thanks for letting me know?” Dean’s hands are resting on Castiel’s hips, and he gives them a squeeze. “We can worry about my kidney stone later.”

Castiel nods, slowly working back into a rhythm. A minute or two passes, and Dean’s just about forgotten the interruption when Castiel slows again.

“May I fix it?” he asks timidly.

“You wanna heal my kidney stone?”

“Very much so. May I?”

“Is it going to hurt?”

“I doubt it.”

“Do I have to pull out?”

Castiel wriggles in Dean’s lap, and Dean groans. “No.”

Dean makes a few slow, shallow thrusts. “Then go for it. Lay your hands on me, or whatever.”

Castiel’s hand starts glowing where it’s pressed against Dean’s body, and Dean stops moving so he can watch. He feels a burst of sensation in what he’s assuming is his kidney, or near his kidney; the gentle burn of Castiel’s grace mending whatever has gone awry inside him. It’s slower than it was when Castiel was kissing his way along Dean’s body, healing his scars, but it feels just as bright hot, just as good. The sensation passes, and Dean has no idea if it worked or not, because he couldn’t feel the kidney stone in the first place, but Castiel seems satisfied.

“You’re real fucking weird, you know that?” Dean says as Castiel starts fucking himself on Dean’s cock again.

“You don’t sound very grateful to the one that spared you a searing pain in your urethra.”

Dean shakes his head, smiling. Of _course_ Castiel is talking about urethra pain while they’re fucking. God, Dean loves him.

Castiel’s eyes go wide, glowing with grace light, tattoos shining, wings flapping so hard a bunch of stuff falls over.

“Cas?”

Castiel throws his head back and lets out a near wail, ass clenching around Dean as he comes, loud and intense. Dean’s confused and excited and he thrusts up into Castiel, faster, harder, until he’s coming too, never looking away from Castiel’s startled, glowing eyes.

 

*

 

Five minutes go by before Dean’s brain is clear enough to attempt conversation. He’s sprawled out on his back now, with Castiel lying on top of him, wings tucked back into subspace or wherever.

“What was _that_?”

“A uh… I was surprised,” Castiel says, voice bone dry.

“By what?”

“I didn’t realize you loved me.”

“How did—”

Castiel kisses Dean’s collarbone. “We are… so very connected during intercourse, Dean. It was easy to hear you.”

Dean feels his heart ache painfully. He wraps his arms tight around Castiel. “My feelings for you are positive, Cas, I swear it.”

“Are you alright?”

“I promise, Cas. I promise I don’t have _any_ remorse or regret for how I feel.”

“I believe you.”

“It’s not a sin.”

Castiel pulls himself up enough to look Dean in the eyes. “I never said—”

Dean tightens his grip. “Then why is it _feeding you,_ Cas?”

“I have no idea.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I don’t know _everything,_ Dean. I don’t even know most things.” Castiel shifts until he’s braced above Dean, then he bends down and licks away tears Dean didn’t know he was shedding. “Don’t be upset, my treasure. Your love tastes nothing like your remorse.”

“It doesn’t?”

Castiel shakes his head. “No, it’s even more golden, more sweet. I’m quite sure it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“I was scared that… that it meant something bad… that I couldn’t love you the right way.”

“Oh, Dean, don’t worry. What I felt from you was…” Castiel kisses the corner of Dean’s mouth, sighing happily. “It was _beautiful_.”

“Yeah, well you’ve said that about my sins.”

“I promise it’s different. Don’t be scared.”

Dean nods and sighs. “Wish I had my sin eater handbook nearby. Is it an angel… mating... thing?”

“I… I suppose it could be.”

“You really don’t know?”

“No. I never really paid attention to angelic mating practices, not intentionally anyway. There are things I know, things I don’t.”

“Oh… why?”

“No one wanted me in that way, learning about mating with other angels seemed irrelevant.”

“ _Why_?”

Castiel smiles gently. “I’m an abomination, Dean.”

“No you’re not.”

Castiel kisses Dean’s jaw. “The offspring of the Morningstar and his first demon is an abomination. I had friends, but no one wanted… I don’t blame them.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“I’m not. Had I taken an angelic mate, I might never have come to stay on Earth, might never have found you, the most beautiful soul I’ve ever seen.”

Dean can feel his cheeks heating. “You can’t just say stuff like that, Cas.”

“Can’t I?” Castiel says, dragging a finger down Dean’s cheek.

“I, uh… you uh… you can.”

“Verbal expressions of adoration make you uncomfortable.”

“I’ll get used to it.”

“You’ll have to.” Castiel smiles. “But, for now…”

Castiel kisses Dean once, twice more, then he’s kissing a trail down Dean’s jaw, his neck, his chest, his thighs. Dean’s dick stirs with interest, which is a little surprising since he _just_ came. Castiel rolls Dean onto his stomach, and Dean nuzzles into a pillow, smiling as Castiel starts showering his back with nips and kisses.

It’s not long before the display of affection turns to something more, and Castiel has two handfuls of Dean’s ass, his clever, wet tongue dragging across his hole.

“Ah, fuck, Cas,” Dean whines, rocking his growing erection against the bed.

Castiel takes his time loosening Dean with his tongue, thumbs tracing soothing patterns in the meat of Dean’s ass. Dean squirms as Castiel’s tongue starts to push inside, and he rises up on his knees, face down, ass up.

“Cas… Cas, that’s so good.”

He’s hard again, dick thick and aching for friction. He resists the urge to touch himself, wanting to wait until—

“Yeah, Cas, _please,_ ” he moans when Castiel presses a finger inside. The scent of coconut oil is heavy in the air as Castiel uses it to get Dean ready. The oil’s not as slick as regular lube, but it still feels so fucking good. Too good, even. They use it nearly every time they have sex, and Dean’s come to _strongly_ associate coconut with sex. Jess brought home coconut macaroons the other day, and halfway through eating his, Dean realized he was getting hard.

Castiel has pretty much ruined Dean for sex with anyone else, but that doesn’t really matter, seeing as they have kind of a forever thing going.

“Stop that,” Castiel says, “you’ll make me come again.”

“Stop what?” Dean looks behind himself, Castiel’s eyes are glowing.

“You are feeling a lot of very strong feelings, I can taste them in the air.”

“You sure that’s not just my ass you’re tasting?”

Castiel rolls his eyes. Maybe. It’s kind of hard to tell if they’re rolling or not right now.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Dean says, “you’re just going to have to get used to it.”

Castiel narrows his eyes and twists his fingers inside Dean. “This is so… I’ve had human lovers before, but they never…”

“Maybe being with me has just made you greedy, gobbling up my sins, now my gross, squishy feelings.”

“They’re not gross,” Castiel says, pulling his fingers free, “they’re delicious.”

“Hope you don’t get angelic diabetes from all the over-indulging.”

“That is not at _all_ how angels work.”

“Guess I have a lot to learn.”

Castiel hums in agreement, cock pushing into Dean. “Apparently you do.”

Dean lets out an embarrassingly high moan, fingers digging into the bed. They go quick and hard, bodies crashing together in a frantic climb towards orgasm.

“You feel amazing, Dean,” Castiel hisses, gripping Dean’s shoulder, pulling him hard into each thrust.

Dean moves one hand down to his cock, stroking and tugging himself closer to the edge. He wants to try something. “Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“I love you,” Dean says, somewhat shyly. It’s not a thing he’s in the habit of saying to anyone other than his car.

“ _Dean_.” Castiel’s hand clenches and Dean feels an intense pressure, then a sickening burst of pain in his shoulder that dissipates almost immediately. It confuses the fuck out of his brain though, and he comes _hard_ as Castiel whimpers and clamps a hand over his eyes. There’s a flash of light Dean can see even with his eyes closed and covered. As Castiel moans through his orgasm, Dean can hear a strange, piercing sound. He doesn’t know what the fuck it is, but it makes his ears ring and his blood simmer happily in his body.

The hand over Dean’s eyes moves away as Castiel pulls out, and Dean rolls onto his back to look up at Castiel. He should get up and get a washcloth or something, they’re both fucking filthy. Castiel’s eyes aren’t glowing now, and they look both startled and sated as they gaze back at Dean. His wings are out again, resting motionless behind him.

“You are reckless,” Castiel says.

Dean grins. “Did you break my fucking shoulder a minute ago?”

Now Castiel looks embarrassed. “I apologize.”

“Most confused fucking orgasm of my _life._ ” At Castiel’s sheepish frown, Dean adds, “don’t worry, it’s fine. Only felt it for a second.”

“I was unprepared for the energy.”

“It’s cool, now I know not to tell you that I love you during sex.”

“I don’t think I like that idea.”

Dean smirks, reaching up to pet a hand along one of Castiel’s wings. “Maybe I’ll tie you down before I do it next time.”

Castiel lowers his body so that Dean can reach more of his wing. “A novel idea, but human bindings would hardly be an obstacle for me.”

“I have handcuffs that can hold a demon, would those work on you?”

“I am rarely affected by anti-demon measures.”

“Rarely, huh?”

“I was in a very powerful devil’s trap once, shortly after my mother’s attack, when I was still very weak. It made my skin… itchy, and that’s about it. You’d be better off using angelic wards.”

“Dude, up until two months ago I didn’t think angels were even _real,_ I don’t know any angelic wards.”

Castiel smiles. “Pity.”

 

 

*

 

 

“This is ridiculous.”

Dean yawns, stretching his arms over his head before he opens his eyes. Sam is standing next to the bed, glaring, arms full of tulips.

“You bring me flowers, Sammy?”

“Cas is removing them from our yard. And the neighbor’s yard. And the _other_ neighbor’s yard.”

“Whoops.”

“Jess went to buy some vases. She wants to use your _sex flowers_ to decorate the house, I guess.”

“You make it sound like I came all over them,” Dean says. Sam glances down at the flowers in his arms, grimacing. “I _didn’t_.” He frowns. “Are you mad?”

“What? I’m just busting your chops, Dean. I’m not mad.”

“But the neighbors—”

“Can’t kick me out for unexpected tulips.”

“So… vases, huh?”

Sam beams. “ _And,_ Jess is going to get stuff to make potpourri while she’s buying the vases!”

“I’m going back to sleep,” Dean groans.

 

*

 

When Dean wakes up again, there are two vases full of red tulips sitting on his dresser, surrounded by Castiel’s usual arrays of trinkets and knickknacks. Castiel is reading a magazine in a bean bag chair on the floor, red cassock matching the circlet of tulips in his hair. Dean has _no_ idea where the bean bag chair came from. He grabs his phone off the nightstand and takes a photo of Castiel to set as his wallpaper.

“I could strike a pose, if that will help,” Castiel says from behind his copy of Better Homes and Gardens.

“Nope, this is just fine. You have fun playing in the tulips, Cas?”

“I do love tulips.” Castiel sets his magazine down. “I, uh… uh…”

Uh? Castiel says a lot of things, but “uh” is _rarely_ one of them. “You…?”

“I have an… errand.”

“Okay? Do you need a ride?”

“No,” Castiel says, frowning. “Well, yes I _do_ need a ride, but that’s not the, uh…”

“You’re making me nervous, man.”

“I need advice. I was going to ask someone for advice.”

“Advice about what?”

Castiel is actually _twiddling his thumbs_. “How to handle my… excess energy.”

“Why?”

“Your neighbor, the one with the broken leg… you know about her, right?”

“Yeah, Sam said she tripped over her dog and went tumbling down the stairs.”

“Yes, her. Well, she’s walking now. She just got back from her doctor. She woke up early this morning, and her leg was… healed.”

“And that was… you?”

“All that energy. I just don’t want so many odd occurrences to add up. It could attract demons. Or worse, hunters.”

Dean’s offended. “How are hunters _worse_ than demons?”

“This house is warded against demons, it’s not possible to ward against hunters.”

“Still… that’s pretty harsh. I get it, though. Not all hunters are soft and cuddly like me, and ‘miracles’ _do_ attract them.”

“Precisely. I don’t want to cause trouble for your family. Hopefully this person can tell me if my issue is… common among angels, and if there’s a solution.”

“And if there’s not?”

“We might have to move. Or… stop having sex.”

“Be serious, Cas,” Dean says. “So… where do we find this person?”

“We have to summon him. I’m certain that between the two of us, we have the necessary ingredients for the spell.”

“ _Summon_ him? What the hell is he?”

“A relative.”

“Uh… not your uh… your… dad…”

“I would not summon the Morningstar to Earth for his help with my _sex life,_ Dean.”

“Right. Well, good. I’m glad. So, where do we summon this relative? Here?”

“No. The house is warded against angels.”

“ _You’re_ an angel.”

“It’s what you would call a loophole, the wards were made with my blood, so I am the exception.”

Where the fuck are these wards? Dean’s sure as shit never seen anything other than the anti-demon wards any hunter with some sense would have around their house.

“Anyway,” Castiel says, “I don’t want him knowing where I live.”

“He’s dangerous?”

“Obnoxious. But…” Castiel sighs. “In many ways, he is my closest kin.”

“Well, alright then. Let’s go summon us an angel!”

 

*

 

Dean takes them out to an abandoned warehouse in Santa Clarita, then watches with interest as Castiel combines items from Dean’s supplies with items from his own stores into a small brass bowl. Herbs, oils, a few drops of blood, and an incantation muttered in Enochian; a language Dean has little familiarity with other than the strange, halting words Castiel sometimes mutters or shouts in bed. He looks so otherworldly, patiently working his spell in the vivid red cassock, circlet of tulips still on his head. Castiel drops a lit match into his concoction, and a little poof of smoke billows out immediately.

A voice booms from somewhere overhead. “WHO DARES SUMMON ME TO THIS REALM?!”

Dean startles, pulling his gun out on instinct. Castiel glances around the room, looking unimpressed.

“HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT YOU’RE MEDDLING WITH, HUMAN? YOU’LL REGRET— Cassie?” A man pops into the room… though Dean supposes he’s not really a man. He’s a few inches shorter than Dean, with fairly long sandy hair and cheerful hazel eyes. He’s dressed casually, a lot like Dean, really. Dean was sort of expecting him to be dressed like Castiel. He looks _elated_ to see Castiel, and Dean wonders how long it’s been since they last met.

“And here I thought you were some overzealous human that got their hands on a summoning spell. You know there are easier ways to contact me, kiddo,” the angel says.

“I’m not going to _pray_ to you, Gabriel,” Castiel says.

Gabriel shrugs, smiling warmly. “No sweat off my balls. You look different. Stronger. I was worried you’d languish here on Earth, but you look very well indeed, Nephew.” He glances at Dean. “And you’ve _mated,_ holy shit! Does he know that his gun is basically useless against me?”

Dean tucks the gun away, sheepish. “Force of habit.”

“What is he, a cop? No, a _hunter._ Oh, this is juicy gossip.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel says, “this is Dean, my mate. Dean, this is my… uncle, for lack of a better term.”

“Pleasure to meet you!” Gabriel steps forward and shakes Dean’s hand enthusiastically. With his free hand, Gabriel snaps his fingers, and suddenly they’re… elsewhere. Dean has no idea where the fuck they are. It’s warm, and dark out, and they’re standing next to a shabby building with a sign in a language Dean can’t read. He feels slightly dizzy, like he stood up too fast and got a head rush, but Castiel rubs his thumb against the base of Dean’s neck and the feeling fades almost immediately.

Gabriel ushers them into the building, which smells _delicious_ when they enter. It’s a restaurant of sorts, a few tables and booths, most unoccupied. The floor is nothing but dirt, and judging by all the wires attached to the lights overhead, the electricity is coming from an outside source. A man with olive skin and a big smile rushes over, embracing Gabriel and speaking in… is that fucking _Turkish_?

Gabriel and the man chat for a moment before the man claps him on the back and gestures to one of the booths before heading out of sight.

“I’ve gotta say,” Gabriel says as he sits across from Dean and Castiel, “the flowers suit you, kiddo.” He reaches across the booth, flicking one of the blossoms with a finger.

“Thank you, Gabriel,” Castiel says.

“So… how long have you been boning my sweet, cherubic nephew?” Gabriel says, grinning at Dean.

Castiel lets out an affronted huff. “I’m not a _cherub,_ and we have been together for seventy-three days.”

“I never thought I’d see you with a mate, Cassie. Thought you were more the… love em’ and leave em’ type.”

“Dean is special.”

“I know. I’m jealous.”

“You don’t have a mate?” Dean says.

Gabriel pouts. “I do, but I don’t see her all that often. Different realms.”

“She a human?”

Gabriel grins. “Not even slightly.”

“Gabriel’s mate is called Kali,” Castiel says, “she’s a goddess.”

The smiling man from before returns, setting plates of rice, grilled green peppers, and seared balls of some sort of ground meat onto their table. They smile and nod their thanks for the food, and then they’re alone again.

Dean’s blown away. “Like a _goddess_ -goddess? _The_ pagan goddess?”

“Yes,” Castiel says.

“Wow. An angel and a pagan deity.”

“The spirit wants what it wants.” Gabriel takes a small bite of his food, humming happily. “You get it though, right? I mean, you two are clearly connected.”

“We are,” Dean says, nudging Castiel with his elbow. “What’s that about, anyway?”

Gabriel shrugs. “Just the way of things sometimes. You go into a room full of people, and there’s that one person that stands out to you physically. It’s the same thing with souls, grace, and all the other forms of spirit energy. Your spirit gets a feel for something and it says ‘That one, I want that one,’ be it an angel, or a human, or an ancient Hindu goddess of destruction.”

“So it’s like… fate?” Dean says, starting on his own food. He thinks the ground meat might be lamb, but he’s not sure. Whatever it is, it tastes incredible, juicy, with hints of cumin, and maybe red pepper flakes.

“Nah,” Gabriel says, “I know Fate. She doesn’t give a flying fuck about who gets together.”

The spirit wants what it wants. Sort of a mundane explanation for something that feels so big, so cosmic. At the same time, he was never really expecting some clear reason for the way he was drawn to Castiel’s tent in Loma. Maybe some things just… _are._

“I knew you’d be the right one to go to about this,” Castiel says.

“You mean you _didn’t_ summon me because you missed me?” Gabriel says. At Castiel’s blank stare, he laughs. “Lighten up, kiddo, tell me what you need.”

“I’m worried the immense amounts of energy I release while coupling with Dean is going to attract too much attention,” Castiel says. Gabriel makes an odd choking sound. “I need help controlling it.”

“That… that was not even _remotely_ what I was expecting you to say.”

“I’ve gotten stronger in the time since my mother’s attack, I’ve fed on many sins, and found as I regain my strength, the sins leave me with energy to burn.”

“Like with your grassy haven in Colorado.”

“How did you—”

“I’m _me._ Haven’t been able to find your new digs, though, which means you warded it, which is _insulting_ , but go on.”

“Well… the grass in Colorado, that was months of sins and energy, slowly building life around where I fed… but with Dean… there’s a lot. So much that it’s affecting our lawn, and the lawns of our neighbors. In California. In a drought. I feel _so much,_ Gabriel, and there’s so much energy. I worry that it will draw demons or hunters to me.”

“So? Dispatch them, I don’t see the issue.”

“I live with Dean’s _family._ Even if attracting attention isn’t all that dangerous for _me…_ ”

Gabriel nods. “I get it, humans and their dumb squishy bodies and fragile emotions.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, glaring, “we suck.”

“Well, go somewhere else to snack on him,” Gabriel says.

“It’s not that simple, it happens when we’re—”

“Right. _Coupling._ I forgot. I don’t suppose you’ve considered _not_ listening to his sins during sex? I mean that’s what you’re doing, right?”

Dean’s starting to wish he wasn’t here for this conversation. He stares intently at his plate as his celestial paramour and an archangel he just met discuss his _sex life,_ shoveling food in his mouth as the conversation continues.

“That was how it used to go, yes. But that’s changing.” Dean jumps when Castiel puts a hand over his. “Dean, say the thing you said earlier.”

It takes Dean almost thirty seconds to chew his massive mouthful enough so he can swallow and speak. It’s a long thirty seconds. “What thing?”

“The thing you said before I lost control and crushed your shoulder blade with my bare hand.”

“Wow,” Gabriel says, “you guys play _rough_.”

Dean glares at Gabriel. “Come on, Cas.”

“Just say it. But… say it for real.”

Dean’s already blushing. “Fine, fine,” he says, sighing. He squeezes Castiel’s hand. “I love you, Cas.”

Castiel’s eyes light up, and the tulip blossoms resting in the circlet on his head twitch and grow larger. He squirms a little in his seat. Right. Feeding from Dean turns Castiel on. Even in front of his _uncle_. Gabriel’s eyebrows are raised so high Dean’s surprised his eyes don’t fall out of his head.

“That’s… different. Since when do you feed on _love_?” The glow fades from Castiel’s eyes, and Gabriel snatches his hand. “I love you, Cassie.”

Nothing.

“I really love you.”

Nada.

“Centuries ago, Kali and I were having a fight, and I killed fifty of her favored worshippers to make a point.” Castiel’s eyes do glow then, powered by Gabriel’s _disturbing_ sin. Gabriel glances at Dean, then glares. “I’m not _proud of it,_ okay? That’s why it’s a sin.”

Dean grimaces. “I’ll say.”

“She slaughtered an entire Catholic village in retaliation, if that helps.”

“Holy shit, why would that _help_?!”

“I said ‘if’!”

“We’re getting off topic,” Castiel says. “I was hoping you could tell me if this was an… angel thing.”

“Shouldn’t you know that?”

“You know I have… gaps in my knowledge when it comes to angelic mating habits, Gabriel.”

“Oh. Sorry, kiddo, it’s not an angelic thing. You know the deal with us. Like Joshua always says, prayer is a watering can, we’re a garden, blah, blah, blah. Well, ever since humanity came into the picture, anyway, but obviously the pre-humanity stuff was before your time. There’s no… uh… feeding off mate love from us.”

Castiel sinks in the booth, deflated. “Oh.”

“Do you know what you are, Cassie?”

“An abomination,” Castiel says blandly.

Gabriel sighs, rolling his eyes. “Sure, if you go by _Raphael’s_ opinion. But I don’t give a shit about what he thinks, and neither should you. You’re a _miracle,_ Cas.”

“How in the world did you arrive at _that_ conclusion?”

“Lilith had a human form, but not a human body. She was a demon, the first demon. Pure and eternal black smoke, shaped like a scary blonde woman, if memory serves. She shouldn’t have been able to _conceive._ And I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but archangels don’t sire offspring at all.”

Dean can’t help himself. “Angelic impotence?”

Gabriel flips Dean off. “I can fuck just fine, big boy. But siring offspring would be like you opening your human mouth and trying to breathe fire. It just wouldn’t happen. We weren’t made that way. God didn’t want us that way.”

Dean ignores the urge to try and breathe fire.

“You’re the product of a whole host of circumstances that should never have happened,” Gabriel continues, emphatic. “That’s not an abomination, it’s a miracle. A mystery in a world that holds very little mystery to something like me.”

“Gabriel…” Castiel starts.

“Unfortunately, what you _also_ are is new. Unique. I can’t say with any authority what rules govern the product of an archangel and a demon, because that’s never existed before. Some angel stuff applies to you, some doesn’t.”

“I don’t get it,” Dean says. “You mix yellow and blue paint together, you get green.”

“Uh… that’s true?” Gabriel says, uncertain.

“ _Green_ is the sum of yellow and blue. Shouldn’t mixing an angel and a demon make… the sum of an angel and a demon?”

“ _What_?”

“He’s asking why I am not merely half demon, half angel,” Castiel says fondly, patting Dean’s thigh.

“Oh. Well, why didn’t he just— okay. I get what you’re saying. Why isn’t Cassie half demonic, half angelic.”

“I guess,” Dean says.

“I have no idea. Why does he feed on sins and remorse when neither angels nor demons do so? Why does he light up like a Christmas tree every time he feeds?”

“You don’t?”

“The flow of prayer to the Host is unending, I’d be glowing constantly. Castiel is like us, and yet so, so different. Sometimes I think—” Gabriel cuts himself off, looking uncomfortable.

“Sometimes you think what?” Castiel says.

“Sometimes… I think you’re a _miracle-_ miracle. An act of God.”

“I’m not an act of _God_ , Gabriel. At best, I’m a mutation.”

“Well, I guess we have no way of knowing which of us is right, do we?” Gabriel smirks.

“So… the bottom line is you don’t know why my connection to Dean has evolved, or how to control it.”

“I have suggestions, but I’d be making them based on guesswork.”

“That’s better than nothing,” Dean says.

“There’s that hunter spirit!” Gabriel cheers. “Alright. First of all, how much control do you have over it?”

Castiel drums his fingers on the table. “Very little. Often tulips grow, but it’s… mostly subconscious. I’m not _trying_ to grow them. I just like tulips, so tulips grow. But there have been times where I was able to make a conscious decision about it… Dean’s backyard is full of blackberry bushes right now.”

“Blackberries?”

“He makes delicious mini pies,” Dean says.

“I can’t believe you haven’t had me over for pie, Cassie, this is getting hurtful. Anyway, so… is the issue worse when you feed, or when you have sex?”

“Those things are… often… connected.”

“Kinky.”

“ _Gabriel_.”

“Hey, I love kink! One time Kali brought a box of clothespins, and—”

“Gabriel!”

“Anyway… so, my suggestion is… practice.”

“Practice,” Castiel repeats.

“Kind of obvious, don’t you think? Practice focusing the energy until it becomes second nature, something like muscle-memory.”

“Makes sense to me,” Dean says.

“Focus it _where_?” Castiel replies.

“Huh… uh…” Gabriel trails off, then snaps his fingers suddenly. “I got it! Plants!” The fact that he’s making this up as he goes isn’t exactly filling Dean with confidence, even if it is better than nothing. “Keep plants in the house, and try to focus the energy on them, instead of letting it spill out of the house into your yard or wherever.”

Dean’s on board. “That’s not a bad idea. Plants in our room.”

“Plants wouldn’t get much light in the basement,” Castiel says.

Gabriel slaps his forehead. “They won’t _need_ light, that’s the whole point. And if they die… your energy would ideally repair them.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on,” Dean says, “this is a _good_ idea, Cas. If we move the boxes somewhere else, move the area rugs a bit, I can build us a couple of raised garden beds for the uh…” Dean glances at Gabriel, embarrassed. “For the nest.”

“Awww,” Gabriel says.

Dean glares. “Archangel or not, I will stab you in your face.”

“Ingrate,” Gabriel says, winking. “Well, it sounds like we have a plan! Damn, knocked it out of the park with my first suggestion!”

“Did you have other ideas?” Castiel says.

“Witchcraft.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Dean groans.

“It was a plan B.”

“I’ll say. I can count the number of good witches I’ve met on one hand.”

“You’re a _hunter,_ of course you’re only meeting bad witches. The good witches aren’t on your radar, they’re keeping their nose clean.”

“Well, at least I’ve liked half the angels I’ve met.”

Gabriel breaks into a wide grin. “I really, really like him,” he says, beaming at Castiel. “Can’t wait to see what the others think.”

Others? “Woah, what?”

Gabriel raises a hand, snaps his fingers, and suddenly Dean and Castiel are back at the warehouse in Santa Clarita, not an archangel in sight.

“What the fuck was that?!” Dean says, looking around frantically.

Castiel adjusts the tulips on his head, sighing. “Gabriel prefers ending conversations on a dramatic note, pay him no mind.”

“I don’t _have_ to meet more angels, do I?”

“I’m in no rush to see the others, and my wards are strong. I have very little interest in indulging angelic nosiness.”

“Good,” Dean says, putting an arm around Castiel’s shoulders. “But, I mean… he wasn’t _that_ bad. He loves you a lot. If you ever want me to meet more angels, I can _probably_ be persuaded.”

“Even my father?”

“The _devil_? Uh… let’s work up to that, okay?”

Castiel smiles. “I thought so.”

 

*

 

After they gather their things at the warehouse, Dean drives them to the Home Depot in Santa Clarita.

“I can’t wait to add this new component to our nest,” Castiel says as they push their cart through the aisles. People are staring at Castiel, but he pays them no mind. “A basement garden, what a _wonderful_ idea.”

“Sam’s gonna love it, I bet,” Dean says.

“Should we… ask before we build boxes full of soil in his home?”

“I’d rather make him rue the day I moved in and he told me I can do _anything_ I want with the basement.”

“He said anything?”

“He sure did.”

“In that case, do they sell rolls of sod here?”

 

*

 

The Impala is stuffed full when they leave, sod and bags of soil wrapped up and stuffed in the back seat and the open trunk, two-by-fours lashed to the roof. It’s a mess, and Dean has no idea how they drive all the way back to Valencia without getting pulled over. They spent… a _lot_ of money. Enough that Dean’s going to have to pick up some day labor gigs soon. He used to be all about credit card scams and hustling pool, but that tapered off a lot recently.

Dean wonders if they could start selling tulips out of a cart or something. And blackberry mini pies. Maybe Castiel could make little tapestries like the ones hanging in the basement. Tulips, pies, and tapestries. Perfect.

The first thing they do when they get back home is move things around in the basement. It’s still pretty early in the afternoon, they’ve eaten lunch in what Dean thinks might have been Turkey or Cyprus, no reason not to get started. They move the old boxes of Sam and Jess’ stuff to the garage, push the box spring and mattress into a corner to leave more space on one side of the room, then when the floor is bare of Sam’s old area rugs, Dean lays down the sod.

It’s strange. Not only putting grass down over _concrete,_ but also watching Castiel effortlessly lift a dresser full of clothes so Dean can roll the grass underneath. Same with the mattresses. Castiel is _strong,_ and it’s fucking hot as hell.

Sam comes down after about an hour, looks at the mess Dean’s making, and asks if they want any help. Then it becomes sort of a family project. Sam and Dean build the raised garden beds where the boxes used to be, Jess prepares planters full of soil to hang from the ceiling, and Castiel takes Bones and the girls for a walk.

“So,” Sam says, holding a stepladder steady while Jess screws ceiling hooks into the ceiling, “what is this for?”

“Wow,” Jess says, pausing in her motions. “I didn’t even think to ask. I just thought ‘okay, I guess we’re getting a yard in the basement’.”

“It’s so Cas has somewhere to focus all his energy, instead of turning your lawn into a tulip field, and filling your backyard with blackberries, and accidentally healing your neighbors’ broken bones.”

“I _like_ the tulips and blackberries,” Jess says.

“Cas doesn’t want to draw attention, you know? So we talked to his Uncle Gabriel, and he suggested—”

Sam gasps. Actually _gasps_ , the nerd. “Gabriel? The archangel? You met an _archangel_?”

“Yeah.”

“ _And_? What was he like?”

“I don’t know… short? Snarky? He calls Cas ‘Cassie’, and I’m pretty sure he teleported us to _Turkey_ or some shit for lunch.”

“Holy shit,” Jess says. The hook in her hand falls on Sam’s head, and he doesn’t even seem to notice.

“God, Dean, that is so damn cool. I’m jealous.”

Dean shrugs. “Cas is way cooler.”

Sam finally notices the hook tangled in his hair and hands it to Jess, who snickers. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she says, “Cas is our favorite angel too.”

 

*

 

“This looks promising.”

“I think so too.”

Right now, it’s just grass and soil. There’s soil in the planters Jess hung from the ceiling, soil in the two raised garden beds Dean and Sam built, soil in the fifteen potted plants throughout the entire house. Jess had thought it was a good idea, but Sam thinks it’ll be a weird reminder for the rest of the house that Dean and Castiel are having sex. They told the girls that they bought magic soil that just might make a flower before their very eyes. It seemed simpler than the actual truth.

The basement smells strongly of soil right now, but Dean finds he doesn’t mind. The biggest downside is that he and Castiel are officially on floor duty for the dirt they will inevitably track into the rest of the house.

The hope, of course, is that Castiel’s energy will flow into all the plants in the house and not into their lawn, their neighbors’ lawns, or their neighbors’ _bodies,_ but there’s really only one way to test this. Castiel looms over Dean on the bed, wings shifting restlessly behind him. He’s naked, save for the circlet of vibrant red tulips still resting in his hair. Dean is similarly unclothed, legs spread, hips jerking minutely as Castiel works him open with fingers coated in coconut oil.

“No lavender,” Dean says.

“No lavender?”

“When you grow your flowers. Lavender gives me a headache.”

“Very well,” Castiel says, kissing Dean’s sternum.

There’s a teasing pressure on Dean’s prostate and he squirms, dick leaking onto his stomach. “Before we get started… do you see any kidney stones?”

Castiel chuckles. “No. Considering what happened with your neighbor, I expect everyone in the house is in peak health right now.”

“Just checking.”

“I want you to know how much I appreciate this,” Castiel says, knuckles dragging wonderfully against Dean’s rim.

“It’s no big deal.”

Castiel glances around the room, arching an eyebrow. “The entire basement is full of dirt, the furniture is moved, there are planters hanging from the ceiling, and there’s _grass_ under your box spring.”

“I know, but… it was a boring room before you. Now it’s not.”

“Still, it’s a lot to do just for me, when I’m—”

“You’re doing that insecurity thing again. You belong here with me, Cas, and I like what we’re… creating together.”

Castiel pulls his fingers free and leans down to kiss Dean hard, needy. A handful of seconds tick by, then Castiel is guiding his cock inside Dean, inch by delicious inch. Dean moans into Castiel’s mouth, arms around his neck. He wraps his legs around Castiel’s waist, jolting when he feels feathers brush up against his shins. Castiel wastes no time in building up a hard, ravenous pace, swallowing each moan he fucks out of Dean.

Time seems to bend, showing itself for the meaningless construct that it is, something that happens often when they’re like this. Dean will drift on a moment, lost in sensation, feeling the universe around him melt away, piece by piece vanishing to be replaced with _Cascascas_ and the sounds of pleasure they make together.

Castiel’s thumb drags against Dean’s lower lip and Dean looks him in the eyes, smiling.

“Confess,” Castiel says, hips slowing.

“There was a girl I dated at my old high school… one of my _many_ old high schools. Her name was Amanda Heckerling. She was real wholesome and cute and nice, but I was kind of a dick… aloof, I guess.” Castiel’s thumb strokes Dean’s jaw as he speaks. “She caught me in the janitor’s closet, making out with this girl whose name I don’t even remember.”

Grace light slowly takes over Castiel’s eyes, and Dean doesn’t look away.

“We would’ve broken up anyway, Dad ended up moving us the week after, but that look on her face…” Dean sighs, fingers tracing along the glowing swirls on Castiel’s shoulders. “It wasn’t the first time I cheated on someone if I’m being honest, but it sure was the last.”

Castiel lets out a low moan, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “You always taste so incredible, Dean.”

“I wonder what _your_ sins taste like.”

Castiel tilts his head slightly. “A shame you can’t taste them.”

“Tell me one anyway,” Dean says, tightening his thighs around Castiel’s waist.

“Sometimes I steal bicycles and ride them for miles upon miles until the bicycle breaks down,” Castiel says, sheepish. “I’ve traveled my way across many countries on stolen bicycles.”

Dean smirks. “Awww. Are my eyes glowing?”

Castiel rolls his hips a few times and Dean shudders. “I’m afraid not.”

“Damn, I bet I’d look cool with glowing eyes.”

Castiel traces a finger down the side of Dean’s face. “Then I wouldn’t be able to see the beautiful green in your eyes, and that would truly be a pity.”

Dean feels a rush of affection at the tender look on Castiel’s face, and he knows Castiel can feel it too. Castiel shudders, sealing his mouth over Dean’s pulse point and biting. The bite isn’t gentle, and the sting of it marries well with the pleasure Dean’s feeling when Castiel’s cock comes in contact with his prostate.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean whines.

Castiel gets his arms underneath Dean and lifts, sitting back on his heels, still buried inside Dean as he pulls him into his lap. His wings wrap around them both, and Dean has never felt more safe in his adult life.

“Say it,” Castiel demands.

Dean’s wrapped around Castiel like a koala, clinging with his entire body. “You’re so greedy, Cas, just want everything, don’t you?”

“ _Dean._ ”

Dean’s hanging on by a thread, so ready to come. “Tell me you’re greedy, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Castiel fucks up into Dean harder. “I am, I’m greedy. I’ve fed more in the past two months than I did in the entire two years before them. I covet you, Dean, I’m greedy.”

“I know you are baby,” Dean pants. He’s closer, _closer._ “That’s why I love you so damn much.”

Castiel cries out, throwing his head back, finally losing his circlet of tulips before one hand comes up to cover Dean’s eyes. Dean hears it again, that piercing ringing he heard this morning. The sound seems to zip through his body as he and Castiel come together, powerful, intense, and probably really fucking loud.

 

*

 

Dean drifts, somewhere between awake and asleep. Castiel slipped out of him at some point, but they’re still clinging to each other with limbs and celestial appendages.

“I think I heard your voice,” Dean mutters.

Castiel lifts his head from where it’s buried in Dean’s shoulder. “My voice?”

“I heard it when you came… heard it this morning too. This shrill, beautiful _thing._ I didn’t know what it was at first, but I think it’s… you.”

“Shrill and beautiful?”

“It’s you, right? Felt like you. Felt like _Cas._ ”

Castiel nods. “It’s me. I didn’t realize you could hear me.”

“Just today.”

“It didn’t hurt you, did it?”

Dean shakes his head. “Nah. It was a strange sound, but it felt good.”

“I’m glad, I know aspects of an angel’s true form can be… damaging to humans.”

“That why you covered my eyes when you went supernova?”

“Just protecting those beautiful eyes of yours.”

“So would it like burn my eyes out?”

“With you sitting right in front of me? Maybe. I’m very bright.”

Dean kisses Castiel’s forehead. “I agree.”

Castiel sighs happily and unfolds his wings from around them. There’s a flash of color in Dean’s peripheral vision that makes him turn his head.

“Well, would you look at that.”

The grass is taller, much taller than it was before they started, and overrun with red tulips. There are pink and white geraniums spilling out of the planters Jess hung. One of the raised beds is overflowing with what looks to be heirloom tomatoes, the other is thick with oregano.

“You pick those on purpose?”

“I was thinking of making lasagna tomorrow.”

“ _Awesome._ ”

Castiel puts his wings away and they clean up as well as they can without leaving the basement, then lie in bed. Dean’s on his stomach, one arm hanging over the edge of the mattress, the other draped over Castiel.

“Should we see if the energy stayed within the confines of the house?” Castiel says, making no move to actually get up and check.

“Nah.” Dean notices there are vines growing along the basement stairs. Cool. “We’ll look in the morning.”

Castiel’s thumb rubs against the arm Dean has slung over his chest. “By the way, Dean... I love you too.”

Dean glances at the red tulip that’s growing up from the floor, stem and petals lengthening until it’s long enough to reach his hand. He closes his eyes, smiling as the petals brush against his fingers. “Yeah, Cas… I noticed.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I should really plant some tulips.


End file.
